


Needs Must

by 1863



Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: BDSM, Handkerchief Code, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:38:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12687027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1863/pseuds/1863
Summary: A chance meeting with Richard turns Graham's night out with the boys into something very, very different.





	Needs Must

Graham spots him first.

“Is that Richard?” he asks Adam, squinting into the distance.

“Did you forget your glasses, old man?” Adam asks, laughing.

Graham cuffs him on the back of the head.

“I don’t need glasses, unlike you,” he says. “But over there. Is that Richard?”

“Where?” Aidan interrupts, bouncing over. 

“Where what?” Dean adds, following him.

“Richard,” Aidan says.

“Richard’s here?” Stephen asks, and Graham sighs.

“Is that Richard,” he says loudly. “Over there.” He points, and everyone turns to look.

It is Richard. He’s hard to miss, really, all 6-foot-plus of pale skin and dark hair and blue, blue eyes. Not that Graham thinks about it. Much.

“We should call him over,” Adam says.

“I’ll do it,” Graham finds himself saying. “We’ll meet you at the pub.”

The others disappear around a corner and Graham jogs across the street. Richard is walking fast, head slightly bowed.

“Richard!” Graham calls outs out. “Hey!”

Richard stops dead. He turns, an odd expression on his face, zipping his jacket up all the way to the neck.

“Graham,” he says, smiling weakly. “I didn’t—ah. I didn’t know you knew this part of town.”

“I don’t,” Graham says, watching Richard closely. “But Jed told us a great pub was around here somewhere, so some of the boys decided to check it out.”

“The others are here too?” Richard asks, looking almost alarmed.

“Not all of them,” Graham assures him, curiosity rising. Why on earth was Richard being so skittish? “We’d have invited you,” he adds quickly, wondering if maybe Richard was feeling left out, “but you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Oh! Oh, no, that’s all right, that’s fine, that’s—” He abruptly stops speaking and shakes his head. “I mean, ah, my phone was dead. I didn’t get the calls.”

“Okay,” Graham says slowly. “Well then, since you’re here now, why not come and join us?”

“I don’t know,” Richard starts, looking down the street in the direction he’d been heading. 

Graham reaches out and clasps his forearm.

“Come on, Richard,” he says, quieter now. “Something’s bothering you. Whatever it is, we can deal with it later, but for now—just a drink, yeah?”

Richard hesitates. Then he smiles, a little rueful, and nods. 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, tugging his jacket down over his hips. “Just one.”

**

They’re greeted with cheers and waves when they enter the pub, and Graham wonders aloud at how they could have gotten this pissed already. 

“We’re not drunk yet,” Aidan protests, offended. “I’m Irish, for Christ’s sake.”

“In that case,” Graham says, “I’ll get the next round.” 

He guides Richard to the booth, hand pressing against the small of his back. 

“What do you want?” Graham asks him, and Richard stops, looking a little startled.

“What?” he says blankly.

“To drink,” Graham clarifies, all the more determined to find out what’s going on. Whatever’s bothering Richard, a couple of drinks could only help. They’d relax him at the very least and lord knew the man could use it. He’d been acting a bit strange lately, a kind of restlessness in his eyes, and Graham was a little worried about him.

“Oh,” Richard is saying. “Right. Of course.” He glances at the table, points a finger at a random glass. “That’ll do.”

Graham nods, takes note of everyone else’s order, and heads for the bar.

When he returns, Richard is just coming back from the bathroom, idly fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. 

“Cold?” Graham asks, momentarily distracted by the movement of those long, long fingers. He accidentally drops a few coins as he’s putting his wallet away and Richard, instinctively polite, bends down to pick them up. His jacket rides up, over his hip—and that’s when Graham sees it.

A handkerchief, grey and black, strategically sticking out of the back right pocket of his jeans.

Graham’s jaw drops.

Richard suddenly straightens, tugging at his jacket, eyes a little panicked.

Graham quickly schools his face into a friendly expression and makes a snap decision.

“Thanks, mate,” he says, smiling. “But you don’t have to get down on all fours for me.”

“W-what?” Richard stammers.

Graham’s smile widens.

“To get the coins,” he adds.

“Oh,” Richard says, and Graham wonders if he’s imagining the faint look of disappointment on Richard’s face. “Right.”

Richard takes a seat, and Aidan immediately scoots over, clinging to his arm like the limpet he is.

Graham fixes him with a hard look. 

“Move,” he says flatly, and knows he doesn’t sound the way he normally does. Richard stares at him, a sort of nervous recognition lighting his eyes, and Aidan just blinks at him for a second before shuffling aside without a word. 

Graham sits down, nudging Richard’s knee until he moves over, and rests an arm against the back of the booth, fingers just brushing the nape of Richard’s neck. Richard goes still for a moment, then leans away from the touch to take a sip of his beer.

Aidan is in the middle of telling some gossipy story about something that happened on set and Graham tunes him out in favour of watching Richard. Richard, who is at this moment rolling his glass between his palms, faintly flushing, and resolutely not lifting his gaze from the table.

So it wasn’t so much a problem that was bothering him, Graham muses, than it was an… interruption. Now that he thinks about it, he’s not really that surprised—something about Richard had pinged Graham’s senses almost from the minute they’d met. And he’s thought about it, sometimes, when he was bored in the makeup trailer or having trouble sleeping—Richard’s not exactly hard on the eyes, after all, and Graham’s only human. Just vague fantasies, idle thoughts, of what Richard might look like tied up or handcuffed, or naked and writhing on a bed. 

Graham nudges Richard’s thigh with his knee again, lets his hand curl around the back of Richard’s neck, and leans across his lap. Richard stiffens. 

“Sorry, just wanted the peanuts,” Graham murmurs, grabbing the bowl and leaning back again. 

Richard glances over, opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again. He takes another sip of his beer.

“So,” Graham says, shifting a little so that his fingers are again just brushing Richard’s skin, “where were you headed, earlier?”

 

“Er,” Richard begins, but Graham interrupts him.

“Might be a little dangerous, don’t you think?” he asks, voice casual. “I mean, it’s not the best neighbourhood.”

Richard finally turns to look at him, and Graham takes a drink of his beer. He curls his fingers more firmly around the back of Richard’s neck, feels the shiver in response, and hides a smile behind his glass. 

“Oi, McTavish,” Dean calls. “Don’t hog the peanuts, pass them here.”

Graham leans forward to push the bowl over, giving Richard’s neck a caress as he does so.

“There are other ways of getting what you need,” he murmurs as he leans back, voice pitched so that only Richard can hear him.

Graham glances over and sees that Richard has gone a definite shade of pink.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, eyes fixed on his beer.

Graham withdraws his hand from Richard’s neck and Richard looks up, startled by the loss of contact.

“I can give you what you want,” Graham says, raising his voice.

Richard’s eyes widen, and Graham looks right at him, smile turning just a little sharp, as he leans across Richard’s lap again.

“You want the same type, right?” he asks Adam, holding up the empty glass he’s just picked up off the table.

“Cheers, mate,” Adam says, a little surprised. “You sure? You got the last round.”

Graham’s gaze shifts to Richard again. 

“Oh, I’m sure,” he says.

When he comes back, Graham sits close enough to Richard that their thighs press against each other. Richard is gripping his glass, the condensation starting to run down his fingers, and Graham resists the urge to grab his hands and lick it off.

He leans into Richard’s side a little. Richard doesn’t pull back, and Graham can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. His mind skips ahead, a series of images flashing through his brain: Richard on all fours, Richard in restraints, Richard’s pale skin flushed and covered in sweat. Richard’s ridiculous voice, driven even deeper and rougher, begging him for more.

Graham takes a breath and lays an arm across the back of the seat again, palm cupping Richard’s neck. The answering shiver is more pronounced now, and Graham reaches over with his other hand, fingers closing firmly around one of Richard’s wrists.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and Graham pulls Richard’s wrist up.

“This is a nice a watch,” he says, leaning close enough to Richard’s hand that his breath ghosts along his skin. “Leather wristband,” he observes.

Richard shifts beside him, and Graham sees him reaching under the table to surreptitiously adjust himself. 

“Do you like leather?” he continues, running a thumb along the edge of the band.

Richard swallows. Graham watches his throat work and his eyes darken.

“I do,” Richard says, voice a little hoarse.

“It digs into your skin a little,” Graham adds conversationally. “It must be painful. Do you mind that? The pain?”

Richard licks his lips. 

“I quite like it,” he breathes.

“I’m starving,” Stephen suddenly announces, getting up. “Anyone want some food?”

“Do they have any chips?” Adam asks, grinning, and Dean flicks a peanut at him.

“Actually, chips sound pretty good,” Aidan says, and Stephen disappears for a minute to order some.

Graham lets go of Richard’s wrist and chats amiably for a while with Dean about the best local brews. He doesn’t look at Richard, but keeps his fingers against the nape of his neck, stroking slow and feather-light across his skin. Richard shifts again, breathing a little heavier, grip on his glass tightening as he downs the rest of his beer. 

Stephen returns with the chips, and Graham picks one up. He catches Richard’s eye as he bites into it, licking his lips as he swallows, Richard’s eyes tracking the flick of his tongue. Graham lifts his fingers to his mouth and sucks the salt off them, slowly, and Richard’s pupils dilate.

“Do you want it?” Graham asks him.

Richard blinks rapidly.

“Wh-what?”

Graham holds out a chip.

“It’ll be good,” he says, eyes boring into Richard’s as he lets his smile turn just a little predatory. “I promise.”

Richard takes the chip with shaking fingers.

Graham watches as he bites, chews, swallows. He shifts in his seat again, and Graham looks down at Richard’s lap, smile widening at what he sees.

“What do you think?” Graham asks innocently, nodding to the chips.

Richard takes a shaky breath. He glances at the others, all preoccupied with their own conversations, then looks back at Graham.

He swallows.

“I think I want some more.”

Graham doesn’t waste any time. He downs the rest of his beer in one long swallow before leaning against Richard, one hand on his chest.

“Follow my lead,” he says quietly.

Graham stands, pulling Richard up with him, and they both slide out of the booth. He makes sure Richard is behind him so the others can’t see the bulge in his pants.

“Hey!” Aidan exclaims. “Don’t tell me you two are leaving already?”

“We just got here!” Dean protests.

“Ah, let ‘em go,” Adam says, and if his smile is a little knowing, Graham chooses to ignore it. “Old men need their rest, after all.”

“Fuck you too,” Graham says with a grin. They make their goodbyes and Richard turns for the door, but Graham grabs his wrist.

“Bathroom,” he says, in a tone that brooks no argument, and heads for the men’s room. He doesn’t wait to see if Richard will follow. He knows he will.

Once inside, Graham quickly checks that all the stalls are empty before pushing Richard against the door, hands heavy on Richard’s shoulders.

“Do you understand what you’re doing?” he asks, leaning in. “Do you know what you’re asking from me?”

Richard licks his lips. Graham can see the pulse point in his neck jump and is only just able to stop from himself from pressing his mouth against it.

“I know,” Richard says, a little breathless. “I understand.”

Graham starts to runs his hands over Richard’s chest, but pauses halfway down—he can feel something odd under his palms. Richard’s breath hitches as Graham pulls the zipper of his jacket down, and when Graham sees what’s under there, he feels his own pulse quicken.

Smooth strips of black leather press against Richard’s pale skin, each strap punctuated with small silver rivets. An O-ring rests against the centre of his chest, another one just visible over the waistband of his jeans, and buckles dig into his sides and shoulders.

Graham curls a finger around the O-ring at his chest and tugs a little.

“When you said you liked leather, you weren’t kidding,” he murmurs, and bends his head to run his tongue over the skin-warm metal. Richard makes a small sound at the back of his throat, fingers twitching against the door as though he wants to lift his hands and touch. He doesn’t, though, and Graham makes a note of the self-restraint as he straightens, zipping Richard’s jacket back up.

Without warning, he grabs Richard’s wrists and presses them hard against the door, at either side of Richard’s head. 

“Safe word,” he demands.

“Mercy,” Richard whispers.

“What do you like?”

Richard starts to look away, and Graham tightens his grip.

“You need to tell me what you want,” he says, slowly, clearly, “or what you don’t want, because I’m telling you now, Richard—” Graham leans in close. “I will push you.”

Richard stares at his mouth and swallows.

“I can show you,” he says, voice already a little rough.

Graham just looks at him for a moment, considering, then abruptly steps back and lets him go.

“Take me to wherever you were going to do this,” he says. It’s an order, and Richard responds immediately. He lowers his eyes.

“Yes, sir.” 

They head out and grab a taxi, and it only takes a few minutes for Graham to recognise where they’re going. He glances at Richard, who is looking out the window, one knee restlessly bouncing up and down.

“Your house?” Graham asks. 

Richard looks over. 

“For you, yes.”

**

Graham looks through the bag Richard gave him, laying out its contents in neat rows on the table.

Condoms and lube, of course. Paddle, riding crop, whip. A beautiful cat o’nine tails of firm, braided black leather. Candles and matches, nipple clamps, a seven-ring spike wheel. A small selection of blindfolds and gags, several lengths of silk rope, a scalpel in sterile packaging.

And a set of heavy-duty, padlocked wrist and ankle restraints, with various interesting attachments.

Richard watches him empty the bag, trying not to fidget. Graham lets him wait, not looking up or even acknowledging his presence, continuing to examine each item and considering which to use. The gags are tempting. He likes the idea that every sound Richard makes will be muffled, reserved for his ears alone, and thrills at the thought of leather pressed against that perfect mouth, teeth clenched around a ball. But he doesn’t want Richard to have difficulty saying his safe word, should the need arise. He’s good with a whip, too, but doesn’t want to use anything that would make too much noise—Richard’s house is in the suburbs, after all.

“Take off your clothes.” 

Richard jumps at the sudden sound of his voice but obeys immediately, movements quick and efficient. Graham watches hungrily as each new piece of bare skin is revealed, so pale and smooth and… unmarked. His fingers twitch with the need to remedy that. And when the trousers come off, Graham has to lick his lips. Richard is already hard.

“The harness, too.”

Richard hesitates, but starts working the buckles without protest.

Naked now, he shivers a little as Graham walks over to him, eyes roaming hungrily over Richard’s long, lean body. The muscled arms, the sculpted chest, the powerful thighs. Graham circles around, one hand running possessively over Richard’s spine and down over that perfect, round arse.

Richard gasps suddenly when Graham’s fingers stray between the cleft, and a moment later, Graham realises why.

His fingers meet the base of a butt plug, and Graham’s cock jumps.

“You’ve been wearing this the whole time,” he murmurs, leaning against Richard’s side, lips dragging over the shell of his ear.

“Yes,” Richard whispers.

Graham nudges the base with a finger, and Richard gasps again.

“All ready to go, are you?” 

Graham closes his teeth over Richard’s earlobe and twists the base of the plug. Richard’s answering moan goes straight to Graham’s cock, and he bites down again before licking a hot wet stripe along the side of Richard’s neck. He raises a hand, finds a nipple, and rolls it under his thumb, giving the plug another twist. Richard moans again, back arching, and Graham lets the sound sink in before stepping away.

“Lie down on the bed.”

Richard does so, and Graham takes a moment to rearrange his limbs until he’s satisfied.

Richard’s back is propped up against a pile of pillows now, knees drawn up and legs spread wide, cock hanging hard and heavy between them. Graham steps back again and tosses him the lube.

“Take out the plug.”

Richard swallows before obediently slicking his fingers and reaching between his legs. He starts to pull it out, eyelids fluttering, and bites his lip as the first two bumps of the plug come out.

“Stop.”

Richard stops pulling, breathing hard.

“Fuck yourself with it,” Graham orders, eyes intent. Richard’s pupils are blown wide now, the heat in his gaze intense, and Graham, still fully clothed, feels his cock strain painfully against his jeans.

Richard adds more lube and obeys, slowly thrusting the plug in and pulling it out, again and again and again. It’s not long before his hips start to move with more urgency, eyes falling shut as he makes small, needy sounds at the back of his throat. Graham’s own throat goes dry as he watches the plug move, imaging that tight heat around his own cock, imagining Richard’s skin pressed against his.

“Look at me,” he says, and Richard opens his eyes. “Don’t come,” he orders. Richard licks his lips, managing to nod.

Graham holds Richard’s gaze as he starts to strip. Richard continues to move the plug as he watches, eyes hot, hips rolling. His skin is glowing with a deepening blush, but whatever shame he might be feeling from fucking himself as Graham watches just seems to make him that much harder. Graham can’t help himself; he closes a hand around his own cock and strokes, just once, slow and steady, Richard tracking the movement before Graham steps up to the bed.

He envelopes the hand moving the plug with his own, and forces Richard to change the angle.

“Oh, god,” Richard gasps, back arching. Graham thrusts the plug in again, keeping the angle the same, and Richard moans, low and drawn out, the sound making Graham even harder. He keeps fucking Richard with the plug until Richard is trembling and sweaty, eyes shut tight and whimpering, whole body shaking with the effort of not coming. 

Graham pushes the plug back into place and steps away. 

“Stand up.” 

Richard shakily gets to his feet.

Graham returns to the table, lights a candle, and picks up the wrist restraints.

“Kneel.”

Richard drops to his knees. 

Graham circles behind him, pulling his arms back and fastening the restraints around his wrists. He rests them against the small of Richard’s back, presses the padlocks shut, and steps back around to face him again. 

Richard looks up at him, skin flushed and lips parted, breathing hard, the blue of his eyes barely visible. 

“You look incredible like this,” Graham whispers, cupping Richard’s jaw. 

Richard leans into the touch and Graham can’t resist any longer. He leans over and presses their mouths together in a hard, deep kiss, Richard returning it immediately, taking Graham’s tongue into his mouth with a desperate groan. Graham’s fingers twitch against Richard’s head, wishing his hair were long enough to tug, and licks at his teeth and the roof of his mouth, tongue sliding against Richard’s, slow and slick and dirty. Richard moans again, a sound so utterly pornographic that Graham has to break the kiss, leaving them both panting. Richard immediately leans forward, following Graham’s retreating mouth, but Graham pulls away.

“Stand up,” he orders, voice rough. 

Graham guides Richard back to the bed and maneuvers him to lie face down across it, so that his head and feet are hanging off the sides. He grabs the ankle restraints and a spreader bar, pushes Richard’s legs apart, and locks everything into place.

He runs his fingertips down over Richard’s spine, his touch feather-light. Richard shivers and without warning, Graham lifts a hand and brings it down, hard, on Richard’s arse.

“God,” Richard groans, hips jerking into the bed. 

Graham grabs the flogger and trails it over Richard’s back, letting the tails fall into the cleft of his arse and drag over the end of the plug. Richard whimpers, shifting a little, and Graham continues to run the tails all over Richard’s skin—his neck and arms, his thighs and calves, the soles of both feet.

Then Graham lifts the flogger and pauses, watching Richard’s back tense in anticipation. He waits for a long, long moment before flinging it down, hard, across his back.

Richard cries out, hips jerking again, trying to rub himself against the covers, but his bound wrists and spread legs keep him from getting any leverage. Graham watches the muscles in his back move, skin glistening with sweat, and gets impossibly harder.

He raises the flogger again and brings it down over another section of Richard’s back, the tails marking his skin with vivid red stripes.

Richard chokes out a moan, squirming, and Graham flogs him again and again, across his back, his arse, the backs of his thighs. Each blow leaves raised patterns of reddened skin and Richard is writhing now, pain and pleasure combining into one intense sensation that has his cock leaking into the sheets. Graham drinks in the sight of him, revels in the needy sounds that are ripped from his throat, and bends down to press his lips against the hot red skin.

“God, yes,” Richard hisses, as Graham licks up his back. Graham lets his teeth graze over a stripe of abused skin, lets his stubble scrape over sensitised flesh and Richard bucks, back arching, trying to simultaneously ease the ache in his cock and press into the hot wet touch of Graham’s mouth.

Graham breathes against Richard’s skin, lips just barely making contact as he moves up Richard’s back. One hand palms over Richard’s arse, fingers curling, nails digging in and Richard starts to shake, head bowed, breathing gone ragged. Graham pauses to mouth at the back of Richard’s neck before sinking his teeth into his shoulder and giving the plug a vicious twist.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Richard almost sobs, hips bucking uncontrollably.

“Remember,” Graham says into his ear, “you’re not allowed to come yet.”

Richard doesn’t answer, just gives a shaky nod, and Graham rewards him by turning his head to the side and giving him another deep kiss. He pushes his tongue into Richard’s mouth without preamble, fucking his mouth as he uses the plug to fuck his arse, and Richard just takes it, greedy, while Graham swallows his moans.

Graham breaks the kiss and stands before rolling Richard over, onto his back, and shoves a pillow under his hips. He pauses to run his eyes over Richard’s body as he lies there, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Sweat pools in the hollow of his throat and trickles down his temples; his lips kiss-swollen, his eyes hot. Precome is smeared on the head of his cock and Graham can’t help himself, leans over and licks it off, the bitter-salt taste making his own cock throb.

Richard makes a wordless sound of need, hips arching up, mouth dropping open and head falling back, and Graham thinks he’s never seen or heard anything so erotic in his life.

He grabs the spike wheel and holds it in front of Richard’s face. Richard licks his lips, staring at the wheel as Graham slowly lowers it. 

He just uses the handle at first, pressing the cold metal against Richard’s heated skin, and rubs it over a nipple. Richard’s breath hitches at the sensation, and Graham does it again and again, pushing against the hard nub until Richard is squirming against the pillows. Graham tweaks the other nipple with his fingers, pinching hard, and Richard cries out again, chest pushing into Graham’s touch.

“You need this so badly, don’t you,” Graham says, looming over him, and Richard lifts his head, craning his neck, seeking Graham’s lips. 

“Please,” he begs against Graham’s mouth. “More.”

Graham watches him for a moment, but doesn’t give into the impulse to kiss him. Instead he draws away, Richard falling back against the pillows, and grabs the nipple clamps.

He attaches them quickly, screwing the pins down until Richard’s eyes are shut tight, mouth falling open as his breathing goes ragged.

Graham gives the chain between them a firm tug.

“ _God_ ,” Richard bursts out, eyes flying open. They’re bright with unshed tears and Graham runs a thumb over Richard’s cheekbone.

“All you have to do is say the word,” Graham whispers, locking their gazes.

Richard stares at him, panting, and licks his lips.

“ _More_ ,” he says, and Graham feels a surge of lust so intense, it’s almost dizzying. He tugs at the chain again, and this time, Richard’s eyes roll back in his head as he moans, low and deep.

Graham picks up the spike wheel again.

“Look at me.”

Richard opens his eyes.

“Try not to move,” he adds.

Graham lowers the spike wheel, Richard never taking his eyes off it, and carefully presses the spikes against Richards’s stomach. Graham watches the muscles in his abdomen tighten, then slowly rolls the wheel across Richard’s sweat-slick skin, the pins sharp enough to leave trails of tiny red dots with even the slightest pressure.

Richard is trembling with the effort of keeping himself still, his breathing uneven as Graham rolls the pins down over his belly, then across his hip and down the inside of a thigh. Graham moves the wheel up, circling just above Richard’s cock, then pauses. He presses down, just a little more, and Richard swallows, shoulders tensing. 

Graham lifts the wheel again, making sure Richard is watching it, then starts to roll it up and down the length of his leaking cock.

“God,” Richard gasps, screwing his eyes shut. He curls in on himself, shaking, and his hips jerk up against his will. Graham continues to roll the spikes over the shaft, not using any pressure at all, then lets the them make the lightest of runs around the head.

Richard chokes out a desperate moan. Then without warning, Graham presses his hips hard against the bed, leans over, and swallows him down.

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Richard gasps in shock, hips straining against Graham’s hands, and Graham allows himself a moment to catalogue the taste and smell and feel of him, hot and heavy against his tongue, before sucking, hard, just once. He hears Richard’s half-moan, half-sob as he pulls off, and Graham is so hard himself now, it hurts.

He grabs the lit candle, holds it over Richard’s groin, and drips the melted wax directly onto the head of Richard’s bare cock.

The sound Richard makes is torn from him, a drawn-out, wordless moan of intense need, and Graham’s pulse speeds up in response. He lowers the candle and dribbles on more wax, along the shaft this time, then lowers the candle again and lets the hot wax drip onto the inside of Richard’s thighs.

Richard writhes desperately, panting, whimpering, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut. He must be close now, Graham thinks. Very close.

Graham blows out the candle and sets it aside before lubing up his hands. He wraps his fingers around Richard’s cock, and Richard bucks up into his grip with a gasp, biting his lip to keep from crying out. Graham strokes him with one hand, a slow steady rhythm, his other hand rolling Richard’s balls. Richard makes a low keening sound as he fucks up into Graham’s fist, but Graham keeps the pace maddeningly slow. He presses a finger against the skin just behind Richard’s balls and Richard shuts his eyes again, face twisting, hips jerking, and Graham is so turned on by now that he’s shaking with it.

He grabs the plug and starts thrusting it, in and out, matching the rhythm of his hand on Richard’s cock, unable to stop his own hips from moving in tandem. Richard’s mouth falls open, his breaths turning into almost-sobs.

“God,” he moans, “Graham... Graham, _please_...”

“Tell me,” Graham demands, his voice such a low growl that he barely recognises it.

“ _Please_ ,” Richard begs, eyes pleading, “I need you in me. Please, _please_ , I need— _fuck_ —” He suddenly cuts off with a whimper when Graham changes the angle of the plug. Graham pushes it against the same spot, over and over, relentless, and Richard’s head tosses from side to side, babbling out nonsense, voice rough and ragged, thrusting desperately into Graham’s tight grip. 

“Oh god, god, Graham, I—I’m going to—”

Graham abruptly lets go and pulls the plug out.

Richard’s eyes fly open and he stares at Graham in shock, but Graham just smiles, baring his teeth and licking his lips.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says, and rolls Richard over.

Graham gets a condom on faster than he ever has in his life and lubes up. He tugs Richard’s legs around so that his head is hanging off the side of the bed again then lifts his hips, curling an arm around his waist. He leans over Richard’s back, presses his chest against skin still marked with dark pink stripes, and licks at Richard’s sweat-slick neck. 

Graham feels him shudder and revels in it.

“You’ll come,” Graham says into his ear, “on my cock alone.”

He leans back, pressing hot wet kisses along Richard’s spine as he goes, then pushes all the way in with one long, slow thrust.

All Richard can do is moan, pushing back and clenching hard.

“Christ,” Graham gasps. Richard is already loose, no resistance at all, but still so hot and tight, and Graham can’t stop his hips from moving, from burying himself in that intense heat over and over and over again.

“Yes, please, please, Graham, Graham,” Richard is chanting, meeting Graham’s every thrust, and the feel of Richard around him and under him, the sound of that voice moaning his name—Graham moves faster and faster, fucks him harder and harder. He feels his balls rising and bites his lip, digs his fingers into Richard’s hips and lifts them up higher.

“ _Oh_ —Graham— _fuck_ —” 

Richard cries out as Graham pushes in even deeper, hitting his prostate, and Graham feels him tense beneath him before Richard comes with a strangled shout, whole body shaking, come streaking the sheets. Richard clenches around him, shamelessly pushing back as he thrusts; he hears Richard urging him on, a plea in his wrecked voice, and orgasm hits Graham without warning, mind blanking out and Richard’s name on his tongue.

**

Graham is gentle as he removes Richard’s restraints, unlocking first his ankles, then his wrists. He massages them with light fingers, watching Richard closely as he does so, then runs his hands over Richard’s back and stomach, carefully checking every mark and bruise.

He cleans up the mess on the bed before settling Richard against the pillows. Graham runs a hand down his cheek and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“Drink this,” he says, voice quiet, and pushes a bottle of water into Richard’s hand.

Graham watches him down half the bottle before carefully maneuvering him to lie down on the bed. Richard turns onto his side and Graham lays down next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close, palm warm against Richard’s stomach.

“You did so well,” he murmurs into Richard’s hair, nuzzling the back of his neck. “That was amazing. Thank you.”

Richard’s hand comes up and curls around Graham’s, mumbling something in response.

“What was that?” Graham asks.

“I didn’t even get to touch you,” Richard says, already sounding half asleep.

Graham shuffles closer and presses a smile against his shoulder.

“That’s okay,” he says. “There’s always next time.”

**

Graham wakes up alone and disoriented. This isn’t his bed, this isn’t his room. Then he hears kitchen sounds and a baritone voice singing along to quiet music, and the events of the night before come flooding back.

He stands and stretches before getting dressed, wondering where to go from here. He and Richard will be working together for months yet. What did Richard expect? Was this just a one-off? Graham feels something twist inside him at the thought of never getting to see Richard that way again.

He stands in the bedroom for a long moment, considering his options, before the scent of frying bacon interrupts his thoughts. Breakfast first, he decides.

Richard is at the stove, wearing jeans and nothing else.

Graham’s eyes trail over his bare torso, some of last night’s marks still visible on that impossibly pale skin. Then Richard bends over to get a plate from a bottom cupboard.

The handkerchief is still in his back pocket, and Graham feels a sudden surge of possessiveness.

“Richard.”

He turns, a small, almost shy smile on his face.

“Morning,” he says. “Do you want breakfast? I hope you like bacon and eggs?”

“I’m Scottish—what do you think?” 

Graham walks over and presses his hands against Richard’s bare waist. Richard doesn’t pull away, and Graham feels distinctly relieved. He leans over and kisses him, slow and deep, then runs a hand over Richard’s arse to grab the handkerchief before stepping away, giving Richard another quick peck as he goes.

Richard grins, ducking his head, and looks up at Graham from beneath his eyelashes. If Graham hadn’t seen him do it countless times before, with any number of people, he’d have thought he was doing it on purpose. As it was, after last night, all it served to do was make Graham wonder if Richard would be willing to consider some sort of rent-boy role play some day.

Graham presses Richard against the kitchen counter and holds up the handkerchief.

Richard looks at it, then back at Graham, a question in his eyes.

“The only time you get to use this again,” Graham says slowly, enunciating every word, “is when I order you to gag yourself with it.”

Graham watches Richard’s throat work as he swallows, pupils already starting to dilate.

“If you need this again,” he adds, softer now, “you come to me. And _only_ me. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Richard says quietly, and Graham pulls him in for another kiss. It’s languid, almost sweet; a gentle affirmation more than anything else.

Graham breaks the kiss and Richard smiles at him, a new, calm steadiness in his eyes, the restlessness gone.

“Can we have breakfast now?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Graham has to laugh.

“I could get used to this,” he says. 

There’s a question in his voice. Richard doesn’t say anything, but the smile he gets is all the answer Graham needs.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hobbit Kinkmeme.


End file.
